"Hail happy day!" cried Lora, "which restores The friend whose absence I have mourn'd so long! For thou, O! Osborne! must with me return, Me and my children! They shall hear again Those counsels which inform'd their mother's heart; Gave courage in the hour of enterprize, Calmness in danger, patience under ills That like a swarm of insects buz around, And vex the spirit which they cannot rouse. Return, my early, long-lost friend! with us Thou shalt enjoy repose: our cheerful home Shall gather round thee many an honest heart Which knows thy virtues, and will hold thee dear." She paus'd, and Osborne joyful gave assent. Fair hopes of joy engaged his faultering mind, For long-time had he dragg'd a weary life, Lone, or bereav'd of relative or friend, Careful to tend his health, and to divert His sadness; each succeeding hour had press'd With its slow-passing wing his gentle head Drooping and prematurely silver'd o'er, (Like snows depending on the autumn leaf) Yet warm, benevolent, serene, resign'd, And like an angel save in youth and joy. A winding path round yonder wooded hill, Leads to a spot where Nature decks herself In loveliness and beauty: far below Spreads the green valley, where a silent stream Turns, like a serpent writhing in its course; And, rarified by distance, kissing heaven, In many noble and fantastic shapes, A giant range of purple mountains sleeps. Grand is the scene, and in the centre stands The tomb of Osborne--after many years Of happiness and friendship, Lora rais'd This plain memorial, and her children plac'd A mother's near, to tell succeeding years Their talents and their virtue. They themselves More forcibly express the worth of both, For they are wise and good, without a shade Of cold severity or selfish pride. * * * * * REFLECTION. August 2, 1798. Why should we think the years of life Will pass serenely by, When, for a day, the Sun himself Ne'er sees a cloudless sky! And, unassuming as she moves, The meek-eyed Queen of night, Meets wand'ring vapours in her path To dim her paler light! Then why should we in vain repine At man's uncertain lot, That cares will equally assail The palace and the cot? For Heaven ordains this chequer'd scene Our mortal pow'rs t' employ; That we might know, compare, select, Be grateful, and enjoy. [For the last verse I am indebted to the pen of a Friend.] * * * * * RETROSPECT OF YOUTH. I wander'd forth amid the flow'rs, And careless sipp'd the morning air; Nor hail'd the angel-winged hours, Nor saw that Happiness was there! Alas! I often since have wept That Gratitude unconscious slept!